Page 12 of Only By Grace (The Virtues #4)
CHAPTER 12
T he ship's deck tilted slightly as The Tempest drew closer to the Irish coast, the breeze carrying the distinct tang of salt and earth mingling on the air. Joy gripped the railing, her knuckles white with tension as she scanned the distant shore. The cliffs of Ireland rose jagged and proud against the horizon, their rugged beauty not lost on her as she fretted over the purpose of their journey.
Now that they were finally there, the reality that they might find Grace very changed did nothing to ease the knot in Joy’s chest.
“Will she be different?” Joy wondered quietly, though loud enough for her sister to hear.
Patience glanced up from where she had been adjusting her bonnet. Her expression, equal parts concern and resolve, mirrored Joy’s sentiments. “I do not know, my dear. It is possible she may have been through a very trying time,” Patience replied. “But mayhap we will find her delighted with her adventure, none the worse for a week on her own.”
Joy knew her face must mirror her thoughts, which were full of doubt. Her imaginings, which were very colourful, had conjured her sister fighting off pirates and sea monsters.
Freddy sat on a barrel nearby, cradling Evalina. The little creature purred contentedly as he stroked her soft fur. “Perhaps Grace is even now enjoying a pleasant journey, unaware of our concern.”
Joy shook her head. “I cannot imagine she is at ease, not with all that has transpired.” The group fell into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about what they would soon face. The sea rolled gently around them, the waves glinting under the midday sun. Seagulls circled overhead, their cries echoing in the open air.
As late afternoon approached, the distant outline of civilization began to emerge. Joy’s heart quickened at the sight. “Look!” she exclaimed, pointing ahead. “We are nearly there.”
Patience stepped forward, her gaze intent. “At last. We must prepare to disembark as swiftly as possible.”
As The Tempest drew closer to shore, the details of the coast became clearer. The cliffs rose sharp and rugged, contrasting with the smoother water. Sitting atop one of the cliffs was an imposing castle—its stone walls bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. This must be what the Castle of Athlin was like from Radcliffe’s story set in the Highlands, Joy mused.
The Kenmare harbour bustled with activity as The Tempest docked, the sounds of shouting sailors, creaking ropes, and seagulls mingling in the air. Joy practically leaped from the gangplank the moment it was secured, barely able to contain her energy. Patience followed more deliberately, her hand resting lightly on Ashley’s arm as they descended. Freddy brought up the rear, Evalina peering curiously from inside his waistcoat.
Ashley had efficiently secured a carriage, and soon they were winding their way along the coastal road towards the castle. Joy gazed out of the window, feeling her eyes widening with fascination as she watched the sheep graze to one side and water cascade down cliffs on the other.
The towering castle came into view as the sun shone late in the sky, now casting long shadows across the landscape. As the carriage pulled up to the front entrance, a young footman rushed forward to greet them. “Please forgive the delay,” he said breathlessly, helping the ladies down. “His lordship is preparing to leave.”
“Leave?” Joy repeated, alarmed. “Where is he going?”
“To pursue Lady Maeve,” the footman explained, his tone hushed as though speaking the words aloud might deepen the scandal.
The group exchanged grim looks of confusion before stepping inside. They were met by a stern-looking butler who eyed them with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.
“Good evening,” Ashley began politely. “We are here to see Lord Carew. It is a matter of some importance.”
The butler hesitated. “His lordship is occupied at present. There has been?—”
“Please,” Joy interjected, her tone imploring. “We are searching for our sister, Miss Grace Whitford. We believe she may be here.”
At the mention of Grace’s name, the butler’s posture relaxed a little. “Ah, yes. Miss Whitford is indeed a guest of the house.”
Relief washed over Joy, nearly buckling her knees. “May we see her?”
“Of course. If you would kindly wait in the drawing room, I shall inform her of your arrival.”
They were ushered inside, the grandeur of the interior momentarily overshadowed for Joy by their collective concern. As they settled into the elegant room, she could scarcely sit still, her fingers scratching beneath Evalina’s chin now that she had pried her from Freddy.
Moments later, the door opened, and Grace entered, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of her sisters and friends. “Joy! Patience! Ashley! Freddy!” she exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace them.
“Grace, thank heaven,” Joy breathed, holding her tightly. “We have been so worried.”
Grace pulled back slightly, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. “I am sorry to have caused you distress. It was all rather unexpected.”
“The blame is mine! Can you forgive me?”
Grace, never one to hold a grudge, hugged Joy to reassure her. The relief was immense. “I am quite well, Joy.”
Patience regarded Grace carefully, as though she sensed a change in Grace. “Has Lord Carew treated you kindly?”
“Yes, of course,” Grace assured them. “He has been most considerate.”
Joy smiled warmly. “I am relieved to hear it. And what of the journey? Was it very dreadful?”
Grace hesitated. “There were…complications. But I am safe now. There are far more worrisome happenings occurring here…”
“Lady Maeve is missing?” Joy offered.
Grace looked at her sister with surprise.
“A footman let it slip.” She gave a slight shrug of her shoulder—the type her governess was forever saying wasn’t ladylike.
“Mr. Flynn convinced her to elope with him.”
Before they could enquire further, the door opened again, and Lord Carew himself entered. His demeanour was grave, his eyes shadowed with concern.
“Miss Whitford,” he began, then stopped upon noticing the others. “Ah, your family has come to rescue you.” Joy didn’t think he sounded relieved. Curious.
Ashley stepped forward, extending his hand. “Carew. I must thank you for the unexpected care of Miss Grace.”
Joy wasted no time: with one adventure completed, on to the next. “But what of Maeve? Who is Flynn?”
Carew’s jaw clenched. “The worst sort of scoundrel. He lured my sister away under the guise of an elopement. It appears she went willingly, but I will find her, and I will bring her back.”
Ashley stepped forward. “We are at your disposal.”
Carew inclined his head. “Your assistance is appreciated, Major, but I must warn you, Flynn is no ordinary scoundrel. He does not play or fight like a gentleman.”
“We understand the risks,” Ashley said firmly. “But this is no time for caution. If Lady Maeve is with him, every moment counts.”
“I have just sent my crew back out to search the bay. I’m headed for Corlach Keep to see if he has taken her there.”
“He will feel safest there,” Stuart agreed.
“The fastest way is across the bay, but that is how he expects us to come after him. We will be easy targets in the water. I did not feel comfortable sending my men back out, but I need them there to prevent him trying to escape with her that way. The ba—scoundrel fired shots at us as we approached.”
Joy, who had been standing near the window, spun around, her eyes wide with alarm. “Shots? He fired at you? At Grace?” she exclaimed, her voice rising involuntarily with her worry and outrage. “That vile, cowardly?—”
“She was not harmed,” Ronan said quickly, though the tension in his voice betrayed his own fears. “Yes, it shows how far Flynn is willing to go. He is vile and dangerous.”
“He has no right—no right to do any of this!”
Ronan looked amused at Joy’s tenacity despite the seriousness of the situation.
“How long has she been gone?” Stuart directed them back to the task at hand.
“Since sometime during the night. The man doesn’t keep his word. I was to have had two more days.”
Stuart whistled under his breath. “And if he has her at his home?”
“It is a fortress much like this one. These castles along the water were built to withstand Norman invaders and the like.”
“Do you suggest we sneak in and steal her away? Or knock on the door and ask politely?” Stuart asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“Unfortunately, the gloves are off. He knows I will come after her, and very likely has set traps.”
Stuart folded his arms and regarded Ronan thoughtfully. “How many men does Flynn have? If we are to succeed in this, we need a clear understanding of what we are up against. Numbers, their positions—anything you can give me. If we are to act, we act with precision.”
Ronan appreciated Stuart’s sharp military mind, but the question still sent a grim tension through him. “Flynn has at least two dozen loyal men, maybe more,” Ronan replied. “They are not disciplined soldiers, but they’re cutthroats and pirates who enjoy fighting dirty. The terrain works to his advantage as well. His estate is surrounded by rocky cliffs and narrow paths—easy to defend, difficult to infiltrate.”
“We will need more than sheer numbers. Strategy is key. If it is a fortress, we need to anticipate where his men might be stationed. Guard rotations, blind spots. Do you have any idea of what sort of traps he might set?”
“Flynn thrives on manipulation and misdirection,” Ronan said darkly. “He will use whatever he can—false surrenders, hidden ambushes. He’s not above taking the most underhanded approach if it means gaining the upper hand.”
Stuart nodded his understanding. “It won’t be my first battle, but I cannot like for the ladies to be involved.”
“There is power in numbers. He cannot kill all of us. I will not be left behind,” Patience declared.
“If Maeve is in danger, I wish to help. And she will need comfort while you deal with Flynn,” Grace added.
Carew regarded her for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he sighed. “Very well. But you will follow my orders. I will not risk your safety further.”
Ashley clapped a hand on Carew’s shoulder. “Then let us waste no more time. The longer Flynn has, the harder it will be to catch him.”
Preparations were swift, the household in a flurry of activity as horses were readied and provisions packed. Lady Donnellan appeared briefly, her face drawn with worry as she bid her son farewell. “Bring her back,” she implored, her voice trembling. “Bring Maeve home.”
“I will, Mother,” Carew promised, his voice low but firm.
As the party mounted their horses and rode out into the gathering dusk, the wind carried the faint scent of the sea, mingling with the promise of impending conflict. The road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but one thing was clear: they would stop at nothing to save Maeve and thwart Flynn’s schemes.